


Set the Fire to the Third Bar

by the_me09



Category: Sherlock Holmes (Downey films)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-24
Updated: 2010-09-24
Packaged: 2018-09-18 10:41:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9380891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_me09/pseuds/the_me09
Summary: Alternate Universe where Blackwood won. He and Coward try to exchange letters and fail.





	

It had been so easy at first. So easy to just write and write, three pages worth of a letter, detailing everything going on in Henry’s government, every resistance and every triumph. Coward wrote a letter every day Henry was on the ship, he wouldn’t even get them until they reached port in America, but he wrote nonetheless.

The longer Henry was away, the harder it became to fill his letters with inane chatter. Coward wanted nothing more than to write long sappy love letters detailing the ache in his heart that grew with each passing day. But conditioned as he had been, to never write anything incriminating, it didn’t matter that with his title as Prince Consort everyone knew, he couldn’t bring himself to put his heart on paper.

He sat at his desk, staring at the blank sheet of paper. Henry had arrived a week ago, had written him immediately, he could practically hear Henry’s laughter as he read. Two months worth of letters waiting for him at port, he hadn’t waited to read them before writing, Coward smiled at the thought, Henry’s most recent letter sitting next to him. He finished his letter, paused, signed love, your dearest Nicholas –the closest he would ever get to putting emotion in his letters- and sent it off feeling worse than he had before.

~*~

Coward sighed and stared at the blank piece of paper. He hadn’t sent a letter in two weeks, each day he would sit down to write, and after an hour or so would get up and put it off until the next day.

Soon, just as his letters became erratic and faded, so did Henry’s, until Coward didn’t receive any.

He worried and worried, terrified that Henry would forget about him. Find someone new, stay in America, rule his empire from the youngest of countries. Or perhaps something had happened to Henry and he couldn’t write. He broke an arm – that was the tamest of the injuries Coward imagined – or far far worse.

Every night Coward would lay awake in his bed, the horrors of what could have made Henry stop writing piling upon each other until he was sure something had happened. It did not occur to him that Henry, great wonderful strong Henry, had befallen the same malady as Coward.

~*~

The door was locked, which was normal, but the silence, the stillness once he opened the door was most certainly not normal. Coward set his keys on the table inside the doorway and drew his gun from the waistband of his trousers. Since Henry had gone to America he had taken to carrying the pistol everywhere.

He crept slowly from room to room, making sure there were no intruders. The unnatural stillness was, he realized, a byproduct of all the servants being gone. He hadn’t given them the day off and so their absence only increased his alarm.

After the first floor had been thoroughly examined he moved up the stairs, trying to keep an eye on the first floor as well. His nerves were tensed and his grip was getting sweaty. Even if faced with a trespasser he wasn’t sure – strung out as he was - that he would be able to react quickly enough.

Coward swallowed and threw open the door of his – their – bedroom, pointing his gun inside.

“Nicholas?”

Coward dropped the gun with a dull thunk and flung himself into the interloper’s arms. “Henry! Oh what was I thinking, I could’ve shot you!”

Henry ran a hand through his hair and said with a smile in his voice. “It was prudent of you to have your gun out when your house is different from when you left. Anything less would have been a disappointment.”

He clung to Henry, trembling delicately, his tightly spun nerves unraveling for the first time in months. And then, his words, the words that had failed him on paper, all the little intimacies he’d missed came pouring forth, unleashed by his sheer gratitude that Henry was with him again.

“God! I missed you, you can’t believe how much I missed you. Your scent absolutely faded from the bedclothes, I wouldn't let the maids wash them at first. I could hardly eat and could no longer sleep without you here. I missed ordering tea for two in the morning and one day I did to try to make myself feel better, but the untouched tea only made me feel worse. I missed the way you would laugh and tease me about silly things and I missed the way your hair falls forward when you’re above me and I missed -”

Henry cut him off with a kiss, stopping the words and merely tasting how much he was missed. The slide of their tongues giving them the reassurance paper never could.

Henry was the first to pull away, Coward could have kissed him until there was no air left in his lungs, could have continued kissing him until he turned blue.

“Nicholas,” Henry smiled and stroked his cheek. There was such a tender look in his eyes, it positively took Coward’s breath away. “I will never travel without you again. I couldn’t sleep either, every moment away from you-” Henry sighed and tears sprung into Coward’s eyes. He could never have put into words the love, no longer blossoming, but ripening into something beautiful and tender.

Coward smiled, bright and wavering, he didn’t need to hear how Henry felt. He could feel it himself. “Come to bed, you’ve had a long trip, my King.” Coward smouldered up at Henry and giggled happily when his lips were claimed.

It had been a six months, they had a lot of catching up to do.


End file.
